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It is really interesting how Paul Weitz’s comedy/drama
“Grandma” (2015) starts. We see a 70 year old woman, a bit tired, in a house
stacked full of books, where credit cards are chopped up to adorn the wind
chimes. But, this isn’t about a 70 year old dying woman, who is saying ‘Fuck
the world, I’m dying’. This is a septuagenarian, who is getting out of (4
month) relationship with a younger woman. Her long-time partner (of 38 years) has
died and she has started dating this younger woman, feeling vitality and
resurgence of creativity. However, there is an anger within her; may be because
it comes from the thought of forgetting the old partner, or simply from the
fact that she itself is getting very old. Whatever it is, this 70 year old woman
delivers one of the best break-up lines in cinema: “You’re just a foot note”.
And, of course by the end of the film, this acerbic old woman gets a ‘karma
boomerang’. But, what’s so interesting about an old gay woman, getting
emotionally beaten-up in her waning years? For one, this septuagenarian, Elle
is played by whip-smart Lily Tomlin and this isn’t an insensitive,
gross-out comedy. There’s a subtle gloominess and elegance to “Grandma”, which
turns it into a crisply-scaled character study.

Lilly’s Elle, after breaking-up with Olivia (Judy Greer), flips through
happier memories and well-preserved artworks of a child, and just at the right
time, she receives an unexpected guest: teenage grand-daughter Sage (Julia Garner). Sage, who is afraid of her super-lawyer mother Judy (Marcia Gay Hayden), seeks the help of Elle to get an abortion. The appointment is set nine
hours, from the time Sage has shown up at Elle’s doorstep. Six-hundred dollars
is needed to go through the procedure and Elle, a once-famous poet and a casual
academic writer-in-residence, has only $43 dollars. There’s only one way ahead:
Grandma Elle starts up her old Dodge and hits the road with Sage, hoping to
meet up with old friends and flames, who may lend some cash. What follows is
episodic vignettes, where the little trip shows Sage, her grandma’s worst
behaviors and hidden vulnerable side. And, the high-schooler too learns few
ironically humorous wisdom of life from Elle.

There’s nothing new about the plot structure or central
themes dealt in “Grandma”. It could be seen as the schematic, interpersonal
drama, where old stars (like Sam Elliott, Elizabeth Pena) play guest roles in
each vignettes. Nevertheless, what imbues an organic flow to the script is
based on the manner, the writings reveal emotional depths at key moments, and
in the way standout performances are extracted by director Weitz – from central
characters to the ones who share small screen time. Sam Elliott plays the role
of Elle’s long-ago lover, Karl. It would be cliche to even call this role as a cliche. But, within that short screen time, Weitz establishes a character for
Elliott, who transforms from being charming, teasing and finally heartbreaking.
It is the kind of scenario, which rather than just solely showcasing the flawed
nature of Elle, tries to understand the anger and frustration of a very minor
character named Karl. “Grandma” is filled with such little, wonderful, aching
moments.Yes, these scenes are modestly
staged and may only have modest impact upon its viewers, but the maturity with
which the characters are approached here are something rare.

Writer/director Weitz, apart from imbuing a well-saturated
tone of melancholia and regret, excels in pushing the wry ferocity of Elle’s
character nature to create hilarious, crowd-pleasing sequences. Elle’s
encounter with Sage’s wacky boyfriend (Nat Wolff) [“Your face looks like
armpit”] and the way she rattles off insults in cafe and bookstores with a
killer timing are a joy to watch. The irresponsibility arc that flows from Elle
(aching over her own pains of abortion) to Judy (who pays more attention to
work than her daughter) to Sage (who is as acerbic and reckless as the two) is
paid good, subtle attention.Another,
unexpected and well-handled aspect of the film is how Sage’s abortion is
neither downplayed nor dramatized for issuing a sweeping statement. Paul Weitz,
who usually fluctuates between ridiculous (“American Pie”, “Admission”, “Little
Fockers”) and high-minded (“About a Boy”, “In Good Company” and also directed
“Mozart in the Jungle” episodes) movies has now perfectly chosen a more tidy,
indie-film route without making any major, maudlin statements. Eventually, one
has to agree that the film belongs to Lily Tomlin and without her bravura
acting skills, all the episodes would have come-off as cutesy. Within those
barrages of cheeky dialogues, Tomlin finely taps into Elle’s measured sorrow,
vulnerability and regret.

“Grandma” (79 minutes) tells a very simple story with a
fully developed emotional profundity and extraordinary performances.

Whenever the award season arrives, we search for amazing performances
that weren’t given its respective award statues. There’s an inherent urge as a
cinephile to proclaim about such noteworthy acting. Tom Hardy in Brian Helgeland’s gangster biopic “Legend” (2015) makes us do that. Hardy, here, play
not one but two major roles: as ruthless real-life mob twins –
Reggie Kray and Ronald Krey. He imbues sharply differing personalities into
both these characters that gave me a feeling of watching a spectacle. Half-way
into the movie, Reggie and Ronnie, interact furiously by exchanging few cockney
swears, which gradually evolves into hard punches. Apart from the stupendous
technical wizardry in that scene, I saw a performance which made me forget that
it is played by the same actor. And, Hardy hovers over the narrative like a
giant statue, so much that the script pales in comparison. American
film-maker/writer Helgeland admittedly glamorizes or glosses over Krays’ crime
life, but that’s something we often encounter in mobster movies. The real
problem is that it is tonally jarring, muddled and remains flatter in the
second-half, despite all the talents involved.

“Legend” rejects the typical ‘rise of the gangster’
narrative arc and rather starts in 1960’s, when the Kray brothers have already
established a base camp at Vallance, London East End. Now their aim is to build
a crime empire to take over whole of London. The extortion and protection
rackets are the usual businesses for the club-owning twin brothers. They rub
shoulders with every prominent individual of London: singers, actors,
politicians, etc. The pair’s over-the-top celebratory parties and increasingly
daring ventures, as usual, made them the targets for other gangster and good
detectives, like Superintendent ‘Nipper’ Read (Christopher Eccleston).

Ronnie is a certified paranoid schizophrenic. Reggie is more
multifaceted: he could be vicious as well as suave. Reg becomes romantically
involved with a beautiful, yet fragile girl Frances (Emily Browning), which
imparts a little friction between the brothers (she is also the film’s moral
compass). The American mafia that’s so convinced to do business with the Krays
are a little wary of Ronnie; not just because, he has openly professed his
homosexuality (in real life Ron was Bi-sexual), but also there is a volatility
in him that ends up demanding blood. Of course the collapse of their empire is
inevitable, set in motion by Ron’s erratic behavior, although what’s
interesting here to see is the symbiotic relationship between Reg and Ron; the
brotherhood which binds as well as damages them.

Emily Browning’s Frances narrates the plot and she gives an
emotionally engaging performance. Her narration would have been a perfect
stand-in for audience view point. But, this is a film owned by Hardy, so her
carefully crafted words seem peripheral to the central events, unveiling around
the Krays. It looks like Helgeland was torn between telling the tragedy of a
woman, ruined by Krays, as well as enamored by the magnetic aura surrounding
the twins. The end result is that the twins win over majestically and so
Frances’ perspective doesn’t seem as organic as it wanted to be. The panache in
Helgeland’s visuals could make us accuse him of glamorizing crime lifestyle,
but he makes a point by stating that London was ruled well-educated
politicians, judges and businessmen, who are more corrupt and hypocritical than
the Krays. So, the glamorization doesn’t come from the vantage point of the
director; it was derived from how the high society saw the twins during the 1960’s.

Nevertheless, the director could be called out for
entertainingly showcasing the violence (the violence that had happened to real
people). A kind of jolly mood prevails over the violent scenes (and even at the
orgy scene, where underage boys were used for the pleasure of VIPs). The situation
surrounding the murder of George Carnell and ‘a paranoid schizophrenic walks
into a bar’ joke amply satiates our thirst to see a well-executed, darkly comic
sequence, but Ronnie – whom we would deplore and call as ‘monster’ in real life
– kind of comes off as a star (than a ruthless criminal). Reggie’s portrayal, however, is more balanced. There’s
a hint that Reg could be as ruthless as Ron in threatening innocent passerby, which
absolutely culminates in the bloody, ending sequence, making us jolt with
shock. Even though Ron is hilarious; Reg comes off as the only multifaceted character.
He is like a Scorsese ‘gangster’ hero. The way Reg seamlessly fulfills his boss
role and transforms suddenly to be a lover, in that club scene works like a
tribute to Scorsese’s profound characters (there’s also another Scorsese
tribute, in the scene involving Krays’ over-protective mother).

“Legend” (130
minutes) is structurally flawed to be a excellent gangland picture, although it is
worth a watch for Hardy’s wildly entertaining, soulful performance. While
frightening one foe, Hardy’s Ron says “I can’t look at you, I’ll get lost in
your eyes!” That’s exactly how the central performances make us feel.

Movies about city or suburban youths, spending their life
being bored is a theme that’s been repeatedly dealt in the recent times. The
non-adventures or small adventures of the reluctant, awkward youths have even
got a sub-genre to itself, called ‘Slacker’ cinema. With the independent film
movement across the globe and with the advent of digital video film-making, we
are seeing a lot of young film-makers venting out the world-weary phase of
youth. But, still only few films have something interesting or refreshing to
say on this frequently dealt subject. American film-maker Noah Baumbach’s
relatable portrait of millennial generation “Frances Ha” (2012) and French-Canadian
film-maker Stephane Lafleur’s“Tu dors Nicole”aka “You’re Sleeping Nicole” (2014)
are couple of gems of this sub-genre, where it profoundly depicts the grayish feelings
of youth.

Both the films are shot on exceedingly beautiful monochrome.
The plot trajectories of these films are pretty similar: fragmented narrative
offering snapshots of close friendship between two girls; their extended
fallout, where one matures and the other drifts away with a confounding look. Quotidian
parental love, boring jobs, a future with diminishing possibilities, youthful
malaise are the similar kind of threads that runs in these films. Lazing
artists, pain of miscarriage, the urge to travel, the joy of getting a bankcard
are the minor events or references that happen in “Frances Ha” and “Tu dors
Nicole”. In an interview director Stephane Lefleur was asked about people often
bringing up ‘Frances Ha’, while discussing his movie. He replied: “Believe it
or not I saw Frances Ha two weeks before shooting my movie. The script
was written, the idea of shooting in black and white was there and I went see
this movie when it opened in Montreal and I was just screaming…………..if you can
get me in touch with Noah let me know. I’d like to ask what he’s working on so
I won’t do it again”.

The echoes of French New Wave could be felt in Noah and
Stephane’s works, although their directorial approach to the story is entirely
different. Noah’s glamorous, romantic view of the city, one which employs wide
tracking shots and emotionally intense close-up shots, makes us remember Truffaut,
Goddard or Woody Allen (“Manhattan”), whereas Lefleur takes a formalist
approach, allowing the frames to tell a story and keeping the expository
dialogues to bare minimum. Noah & Gret Gerwig goes for a quirky comedy,
while Lefleur uses absurdist, deadpan humor that brings to mind the works of Jim
Jarmusch. Noah conveys the sense of youthful restlessness through his
well-crafted montages; Lefleur imbues a lackadaisical, quizzical mood through
his static visual compositions. Both the film-makers are intent on rendering
the movie as ‘timeless’ ( we rarely see technical gadgets or discussions about
it in the films).

Frances Halliday is a 27 year old NewYork girl, apprenticing
for a dance company that seem to offer no better prospects for the future.
Nicole Gagnon is a 22 year old girl, living at her suburban Quebec house, who
is unable to find a better work place than a charity clothing store. Frances is
a whip-smart girl, who had read lot of literature and has a tendency to say
awkward things at awkward encounters. Nicole is an insomniac, who doesn’t say
much. Despite being repeatedly beaten down by life, Frances moves through like
a bundle of energy; she uses all kinds of expressions to talk about her inner
feelings. Nicole has a comfortable, dull
life and her monotonous face only stages subtle emotions; a little curling of lip,
the slow shifting of eyes should be keenly watched to get into Nicole’s inner
psyche. Frances has ‘undateable’ characteristics, while Nicole withholds few ‘unlikable’
elements. Nicole is more petulant & acidic than Frances. From a viewer’s
perspective, both Frances and Nicole are recognizable, relatable and also extract
our empathy.

The real conjoining factor, as in all slacker movies, of
Frances and Nicole lies in their aimlessness. They are affected by
purposelessness that brings a low-key rage in approaching the future. Their
aimless nature is questioned on by the sudden maturation of their best friends –
Sophie in “Frances Ha” and Veronique in “Tu dors Nicole”. On paper, Frances
might seem like a ‘happy-go-lucky’ girl, while Nicole may come off as the
perfect grumpy girl. But, on-screen Greta Gerwig and Julianne Cote transcend
those inherent characteristics to showcase a perfectly-defined wistfulness. May
be Frances explains her yearning (in the beautiful monologue about what she
wants in relationship or life) better than Nicole, but their emotional beats
are intricately layered.

The girls’ plans are broken, flirtations and friendships go
awry, and their assumptions are repeatedly challenged. But, these are something
we naturally expect from a slacker genre, although what makes these plot
strands to stand unique is the characterization of Frances and Nicole. All
these regular elements are loosely structured around the respective phenomenal
performances, so that we see it is as the natural, awakening aspects of their
extended adolescence. While Frances is still the same Frances at the end of the
film, Nicole is hinted to have witnessed a jolt that has awakened her from the
queasy slumber. May be the ‘geyser-blasting’ end might bring some fresh
perspective for Nicole to approach her remaining youth life. As for Frances,
she seems to have reached a point to brazenly encounter heartbreaks as well as
adulations. And, she has still retained the ‘Ha’ amongst the uncaring world.

You don’t need a cacophony of piping noises or lucid, long passages
to showcase the emotional maelstrom and the pain of nostalgia felt by a
character on-screen. You just need great performers, who could convey the
character’s moods in a non-dramatic way. Andrew Haigh’s restrained relationship
drama “45 Years” (2015) is blessed by such performers – Charlotte Rampling and
Tom Courtenay. Haigh’s feature film debut “Weekend” (2011) showcased the early
stages of a gay relationship between two young men, but with “45 Years”, Haigh
has chosen completely opposite story line involving older straight couple, who
were about to celebrate their 45th wedding anniversary. The film terrifically
depicts how cyclical waves of past griefs and memories could gradually erode the
decades of bond between loving couples.

Relationship dramas rarely travel away from Rom-com genre to
present us a genuine, perceptive and unfulfilled side of relationships or
marriages. While “45 Years” not only stumbles onto the bitter side of a
marriage, but also withholds a complicated situation at its center, which
profoundly talks about our notion of memories. Adapted from David Constantin’s short story (“In
Another Country”), the film opens on a cozy, countryside atmosphere. Former
factory manager Geoff Mercer (Tom Courtenay) and his wife Kate Mercer
(Rampling), a retired school teacher live in relative affluence, although the
childless couple spend their time thinking about smaller choices in life. The
one immediate thing they had to decide about is what to serve or what song to
play for the upcoming 45th wedding anniversary party. Geoff seems
like a putterer, while Kate seems clear-eyed. Their initial conversations and
unspoken gazes perfectly show us the habits of an archetypal, old & wealthy
married couple, who seem to acknowledge each others' flaws and continue to live
in contentment.

These initial frames might make us think that this is an
average domestic drama. But it’s not. An ‘elephant’ has already entered into
the cozy rooms of this couple’s house. That ‘elephant in the room’ arrives in
the form of a letter. In that letter, written in German, it is stated that the
corpse of Katya had been found preserved in ice. Katya was Geoff’s sweetheart,
50 years before, and she disappeared into a fissure in the ice, while they
both were on a hiking trip in the Alps. Katya
was in Geoff’s life before he met up with Kate. So, it seems there’s not much
to threaten an old marriage bond, although Geoff becomes so quiet and rattled
from the moment he reads the letter. He later conveys that he was listed as the
next of kin for Katya, an information Kate says that Geoff had never shared
with her. Gradually, the old couple
tries to evoke their own freezed memories about the relationship. A simple
song, pressed flowers on a notebook and old photos link up and ask big doubts
about their marriage. There’s not a single major dramatic incident in the plot’s
course, but with each disentangled, profound truth, the film becomes immensely
intriguing.

Director/writer Andrew Haigh subtly establishes the couple’s
quiet, peaceful life and then elegantly pushes a ‘ghost’ into the plot that
keeps on expose their vulnerabilities and doubts. There’s a recurrent reference
to photographs, which sort of becomes a stand-in word for old memories. Photos
do freeze our past, confined to a place, whose context might get slippery over
time. Old photos or newly remembered memories can hit us with a wave of
nostalgia, from which we could extraction a satisfaction that we have led a good
life. But, what if those things solely indicate the missed opportunities or
doubt over the choices we made in life. Then the old memories & photographs
could become a ‘ghost’. In “45 Years”, the specter named ‘Katya’ (whom we don’t
even see clearly in the photos) casts a suspicion that is so intricately
calibrated. Retrospective jealousy is something we rarely in movie characters,
which is carefully etched with the character of Kate.

The emotional fall down is sequential and yet looks natural.
Initially, Kate says “I can hardly be cross with something that happened before
we existed, can I?" Then while taking to her friend Lena on how there’s slight
changes in Geoff’s behavior, she utters “he gets over-passionate about things”.
She’s trying to reason out or understand her life partner. And, finally when
the secret comes to light, she chillingly says “It’s like she’s [Katya] been
standing in the corner of the room all this time, behind by back; it’s tainted
everything”. Director Haigh cleverly uses visual motifs like closing doors or
attics to demonstrate how the emotional troubles keeps on getting heightened. Perhaps
Katya being encased in an ice (and the information that she is perfectly
preserved) becomes an obvious symbol of the couples’ impending sense of misery.
Most importantly, neither Geoff nor Kate is shown as unsympathetic or acidic.
It is absolutely evident that they love each other, which isn’t makes their
disquiet more distressing. There are also no unnecessary subplots to make
things contrived.

As a writer, Haigh puts forward some beautiful dialogues
(like the scene where Lena says on why Kate and Geoff need the anniversary
party), but he as a director isn’t intent on capturing the dialogue deliveries;
he rather concentrates on the reactions of characters to the words spoken. In
one occasion, we see Geoff lucidly remembering on what would have happened, if
Katya had survived and they had made a trip to Italy. Haigh’s shot in that
scene focuses on Kate’s reaction and as words keeps on pouring at the end
little emotional ripples on her face. And may be the understated emotional reactions
exhibited by Courtenay and Rampling are what gives me a thoroughly engrossing
experience. Even the smallest of gestures from the veteran actors expresses
battle of emotions.

“45 Years” has one of the phenomenal endings in the recent
cinematic history (it also made me remember the impactful ending of Christian
Petzold “Phoenix”). It is an assemblage of finest piece of acting and
directing. The whole film seems to have build up to that moment, where we see
the disquieting closeup shot of Kate’s face. A little slip in the filming of the
final, anniversary sequences could have robbed the cliff-hanger sort of
culmination. There’s a touching speech by Geoff and a beautiful song, where the
lyrics seems to sum-up the couple’s life along with the present uncertainties. Slowly,
despite the loud claps, the camera settles on Rampling’s face. Will there be
another wedding anniversary celebration? Can they get past the feeling that
made them question their whole relationship? We can make up our own theories.
But, the uncertainty that lies in the final shot conveys a lot about the
realities of relationship and on life too.

At 95 minutes, Andrew Haigh’s “45 Years” brazenly and
vividly focuses on the confounding aspects of a good relationship. The lack of
high tragedies and presence of in-articulated, deep emotions may not interest
many, but I feel that this is a ‘grade A’ cinema.

Tobias Lindholm’s Oscar nominated Danish feature has a very
simple title – “A War” (2015). And as title suggests, it deals with the
conflict wreaked upon a landscape as well as on one’s inner-self. Men with guns
kill each other; their wives become depressed shut in; and children cry or act
out. If one is to explain the plot trajectory of “A War” (aka "Krigen", we would feel that
there is nothing new in the plot, except that it is a Danish soldiers’
point-of-view of the Afghan war. Denmark went with US and UK by 2002/03 to
fight ‘war on terror’, which was the first battlefield for Danish soldiers in
their nation’s modern history. But, what else a soldiers’ POV film could diffuse
upon the viewers, apart from arriving at an endpoint to state ‘war dehumanizes
a human being’. And, Lindholm’s third directorial feature, of course reiterates this age old statement, although the way he puts forwards his characters
and their emotions is so compelling to behold.

Unlike the majority of American war movies, “A War’s”
protagonist isn’t a rookie soldier, who thinks war is only about getting the bad
guys. The central character is Claus Pedersen (Pilou Asbaek), who is a
commanding officer with a resolve to take more patrolling jobs to uphold the
withering morale of his company men. He has just lost a 21 year old guy, blown
to pieces by a landmine, in what was to be a regular patrol routine. At home in
Denmark, Pedersen’s wife Maria (Tuva Novotny) has a tough time in caring for
their three young children. Of the three, the middle child Julius is acting up
(creating troubles at school) because of his father’s lengthy absences.
Pedersen, the thoughtful and persuasive guy, tries his best to understand the
family troubles as well as to keep his men safe. At one point, he says that
their job is to root out the Taliban and protect the civilians.

Pedersen tries to engage with the locals on a basic human
level. But, the exact methods to protect the civilian population remain elusive
as Pedersen, driven by protocol, declines shelter to a innocent family, which
is threatened by Taliban. Next day, driven out of emotion, Pedersen takes few
of his men to check on the family and to root out the enemies. However, only
chaos erupts during the patrol. And, an incorrect command is given, out of the desperation
to save few lives. Pedersen soon returns home, but a threat of facing a prison
term accompanies him.

In his previous directorial attempt, “A Hijacking” (2013),
director Tobias Lindholm took upon the premises of a hostage thriller and transformed
it into a layered, psychological drama. He was also the writer behind Thomas
Vinterberg’s emotionally exhausting films “The Hunt” and “Submarino” (also one
of the screenwriters for exemplary Danish political drama series “Borgen”). So,
Lindholm always keep emotions and characters at the forefront, while his plot
looks very simple on the outset. He gradually imparts those subtle emotions with
a profundity that avoids us from passing comfortable judgments on the characters.
It is very easy to find a caricatured version of each of the characters (particularly
from Hollywood movies) we encounter in “A War”. The emotional troubles of Maria
never reach an overly dramatic arc. The wearied patience of that character is
perfectly emoted rather than expressed through large words. The mischief of
the three kids come off genuine on camera. The way Lindholm amalgamates two
spheres of plot’s course (Afghan & Denmark) in the first two acts, with
sharp realism may not give us an immediate impact, but with the arrival of courtroom
scenes, all those previous, little personal experiences of the characters makes
us to perfectly understand the moral dilemmas posed. To put it simply, Lindholm
puts us into a moral minefield, whose existence we are aware of only after
getting through the early subtle portions.

Of course, the director/writer isn’t so ambiguous about
whether we should root for Pedersen or not. Despite his wrongful action, we
empathize with him and the family. When Maria says “Never mind what you should
have done, the important thing is what you are going to do now”, we are
absolutely aware of what the outcome of the trial would be. So, through the
courtroom sequences, Lindholm traverses to pursue thought-provoking questions
about war by disclosing few of the emotional ambiguity. Najib Bisma’s (played
by Dar Salim) testimony profoundly shows how a good soldier could be forced to
take a bad decision due to his empathy. In fact, Lindholm’s idea with that
scene is to exhibit how elusive a term like ‘good soldier’ could become. War
film protagonists usually tend to claim madness for losing their emotions.
Here, it is the opposite and that is what makes the scenario more haunting. In
the climax, the inevitable happens, although the director doesn’t finish it
with a false note of triumph. At the very end, Pedersen briefly looks at his
child’s foot and then goes out in the dark for smoke. Is he just gazing through
the darkness? No. He is looking into a metaphysical void which isn’t going to
provide him any relief. May be waging wars are like gazing into metaphysical
emptiness.

“A War” (110 minutes) takes an often told soldiers’
point-of-view tale and transcends it with admirable emotional ambiguity and
thoughtfulness. It is a necessary watch for anyone interested in the sober
analysis of war.

Finnish film-maker Klaus Haro’s Estonian/Russian language
movie “The Fencer” (2015) [Finland’s entry for Foreign Language Oscars) could
be easily understood without the English subtitles. It’s not that this is a
movie that relays its themes through sequences of stupendous imagery; it is just
the kind of film that employs familiar tropes which you might have seen in at
least dozens of Hollywood movies. “The Fencer” is box-ticking in various ways:
Did this have a handsome protagonist in a state of quandary? Yes. Does this
film have a beautiful actress who only serves as hero’s romantic interest? Yes.
Is there a cute kid in the narrative, who sees our hero as a father figure? Yes.
Does the script include a despicable sycophant, who is intent in maintaining the
status quo? Oh yes! Despite such fairly predictable and little annoying plot
structure, there is something positively infectious about watching an ‘inspirational’
drama, where world-weary, but wide-eyed kids eagerly wait to learn a path of
virtue from the grown-ups. That is what made me to forget that “The Fencer” is an
Oscar entry movie from a country that makes profoundly-layered films and also to
forgive its conventional script (only to an extent).

The film is partly based on the plight of champion fencer
Mr. Ender Nelis. He was drafted by Nazi Germany during its occupation of
Estonia in World War II. When Soviet Union boasted its power on Estonia after
1945, Ender had to run into a small town in the Baltic region, where the
inquisitive eyes of KGB might not reach. The fact that the film’s protagonist
is a man ‘on-the-run’ is established in the opening shot as Ender Nelis (Mart Avandi) is followed by the camera, while walking through a bedraggled
Soviet-Union controlled Estonian town named Haapsalu. It is early 1952 and Ender ends up taking the jobs
as sports teacher in a school, where the meager sport equipment are often
shared with military facilities. Nelis couldn’t stand the propaganda recitals
of head-teacher (Hendrik Toompore) and also isn’t good in handling children.

A cute and curious little girl Marta (Liisa Koppel) and a
sulky teenager Jaan (Joonas Koff), who lives with his grandfather (played by “Tangerines”
fame Lembit Ulfsak) changes our protagonist’s constricted attitude. And, of
course there’s an attractive, fellow teacher Kadri (Ursula Ratasepp) who
provides ample motivation for Nelis. Despite the tyrannical head-masters’
warning that fencing is an elitist and anti-socialist sport, Nelis includes
fencing courses in his sports club. The eager kids, in order to be liberated
from the gloomy life (most of the kids have lost their father or both parents
to the war), embrace Nelis’ fencing classes. Due to the lack of equipment, the
students simply use sticks. As the head-master begins digging into Nelis’s
shadowy past, the school’s fencing team gets an opportunity to participate in a national
competition, held at Leningrad, which for Nelis would be like voluntarily
entering into ‘Lion’s den’.

As I mentioned, the script (written by Anna Heinamaa) moves
with little surprises and settles on a conventional formula, although it hits
the right notes from a simple, emotional front. The children Jaan and Marta
makes up for the movie's emotional core and the kids’ lucid performances
attracts our attention. The drab palette used to denote the broken-down Soviet
society provides enough atmospheric help to root for the underdogs’ battle. The
final sports sequences at first looks like a boiled-down version of “Karate Kid”, even though it’s captured better by avoiding faux, chest-thumping emotions. The final
sequence also pits Marta against a big & skilled city boy, which is an
obvious metaphor for Endel Nelis’ struggle against the intimidating
bureaucratic machine. Apart from the predictability factor, the one galling
phenomenon about the film is that we never get to know about Mr. Nelis’ and his
motivations. He is heroic and says the usual words like “I have been running
all my life”. Avandi, who plays Nelis looks and perfectly plays the part, but what
makes this fencing club founders’ life different from the usual taciturn-loner-turned-inspirational-figure?

“The Fencer” (95 minutes) is a well-crafted, fairly
entertaining, but a very predictable ‘David-Goliath’ drama. It will be
remembered as the film that made into short-list of 2016 Golden Globe
nominations and long-list of Oscar nominations and apart from that it has nothing unique to remember.

Jacques Audiard is fondly called as ‘French Scorsese’ by art-house audiences around the world. Like Scorsese, he likes to observe the
outsiders or outcasts of the society. Audiard’s protagonists hail from the
lower rungs of society. A gangster in “The Beat that my Heart Skipped”, a young
Arab prisoner with an intention to become a mafia kingpin in “A Prophet”, a
bouncer in “Rust and Bone”, and ex-convict in “Read my Lips”. He most often
takes a simple, generic plot and mixes his own brand of lyricism and violence that
becomes strangely beguiling. Audiard’s earlier films like “See How they Fall”, “A
Self Made Hero” and including “The Beat…” had charismatic, well-known French heroes,
whose characters plunged deep into the underbelly of a social institution. But,
with “A Prophet” and “Rust and Bone”, even the actors were outsiders (Tahar
Rahim & Matthias Schoenaerts), whose day-to-day survival and emotional
healing became a far more high-wire act. With Palme d’Or winning “Dheepan”
(2015) Audiard selects an inexperienced, unknown actor as his protagonist to
offer an empathetic portrait of a refugee, trying to adapt to an exhausting
daily grind.

Probably the first question one might have after watching “Dheepan”
would be “Did it deserve to win a Palme d’Or?” Why Audiard’s most subdued and
leaner film was was bestowed with a prestigious award, when he more than
deserved it for “A Prophet”? (In that year Haneke’s “The White Ribbon” took
Palme d’Or). “Dheepan” certainly didn’t satisfy me as much as Audiard’s “Prophet”
or “The Beat…” There are some bewildering and overly conventional plot
elements, which doesn’t create as much impact as Audiard wanted it to be. But, if
we could forget the post-Cannes buzz and see “Dheepan” as a micro-level
extension of Audiard’s favorite themes (poverty, violence and redemption), we
could connect with the refreshing aspects of the film. First of all, it is bold
and even insane to make French film, set in France, where characters
predominantly speak in Tamil language. Audiard’s impeccable aesthetic details along
with agitated performances of the leads are the strongholds for the movie.

“Dheepan” opens on a parched landscape, littered with palm
trees, where Sivadhasan (Jesuthasan Anthonythasan), a LTTE warrior stands with an
empty look as the dead soldiers are cremated. He had already lost his wife and
children to the civil war and now seeks to flee from Sri Lanka. A woman named
Yalini (Kalieaswari Srinivisan) wanders through refugee camp, searching for an
orphaned child. She finds a 9 year old girl Illayaal (Claudine Vinasithamby)
and with Sivadhasan, the trio becomes a faux family, hoping to find a better
life in Europe. The passports are of a demised Sri Lankan Tamil family and so
Sivadhasan becomes ‘Dheepan’—meaning ‘man who illuminates’. As the faux family
gets into the boat, Audiard superbly cuts to multi-colored lights, blinking in
the dark and gradually the shot comes into focus, and we see clearly that it is
a set of flashing bunny ears, which Dheepan is wearing on his head to sell it
on the pavements. Later, when he goes to his cramped-up apartment (where the woman
posing as his wife and the little girl lives) and tries to get a little sleep,
he dreams of an elephant in the jungle. If the name “Dheepan” indicates the irony
of what our protagonist has become, the ‘elephant’ may denotes his past
traumatic & violent memories (elephants are known for their power &
memory).

Soon, Dheepan finds himself in an urban jungle, where his
faux family finds lodgings in a disused section of public housing. He works as
a caretaker and on the horizon he sees trouble in the form of local gangs, who
all are peddling drugs. He is often shoved off and witnesses low-level abuses (we
hear him being called ‘Mowgli’). ‘Daughter’ Illayaal is enrolled into a public
school and ‘wife’ Yallini finds a job to take care of a paralyzed oldman, who
is the uncle of apartment block’s gang leader Brahim (Vincent Rottiers). Yallini
has selfish motive to leave for England, to live with her cousin, but the three
learn to function as a family and they begin to genuinely care for each others'
well-being. Dheepan tries to love and to integrate into a society with a set of
modest goals. But, in that gang-infested land, mayhem arrives as Brahim is
released on parole. Although, Brahim is not portrayed as a demon (he even talks
like a gentleman with Yallini), he has his businesses to take care of, which
indirectly makes Dheepan to reach his breaking point.

Sivadhasan aka Dheepan Natarajan has the typical
characteristics of an Audiard hero. But, in certain ways ‘Dheepan’ stands apart
from Malik in “A Prophet” or Thomas in “The Beat…” Both of those characters were
diffused with the easily identifiable Scorsese or Brian De Palma’ protagonist
elements. Their past trauma and present emotional quandaries remains apparent
through the dense script structure. However, Dheepan’s characterization offers
no such concession. All the violence, love and neglection, Dheepan has faced in
the past is expressed more subtly and demands viewers full attention. The way
he often scans the horizon, the manner with which he tries to settle in on the
job or tries to love or the way he clamorously calls for a ‘no fire zone’ (and
even the means by which cries after hearing the jubilant Illayaraja song) says
something about his past and longing for a present, which isn’t as mainstream
to understand as in Audiard’s other central movie figures. Anthonythasan who
plays ‘Dheepan’ offers a virtuoso performance as the man capable of extreme violence
and effervescent love. Anthonythasan, an ex-rebel turned expatriate (better
known by his pen name “Shobasakthi”), had played only one minor cinematic role
in “Sengadal” (which was banned by Indian censor board). The film also offers a
strongest female lead for an Audiard movie (with the exception of Marion
Cotillard in “Rust and Bone”, the directors’ films lacked women characters, who
hold their own space). Kalieswari Srinivasan as Yallini steals the spotlight
often, especially in the scenes she converses with French gangster. Her
performance is well improvised that at times, we feel her character transitions
are more graceful and grounded than that of Dheepan’s.

As in the ‘Bon Jovi’ song, Audiard’s script (written along
with Noe Debre and Thomas Bidegain) states that ‘the more the things change,
the more they stay the same’. When Dheepan fought for failed sociopolitical
reasons he lost everything he loved and now when he founds a new love, once
again things take a course, where fighting becomes inevitable. The emotional
arc of the character seems to be a mixture of Travis Bickle and Paul Kersey (“Death
Wish”), but Audiard keeps this subversive story element at the back and
projects the script as a love story with a darker core. When the plot traverses
as a love story or as immigrant drama, Audiard’s execution and minor
transitions remain brilliant. But, when he narrows the story to concentrate
solely on the vigilante aspect -- by the third act -- the tonal changes remain
a bit jarring. Illayaal’s emotional troubles are totally kept out of range in
the final act, as the feelings of a neglected child are reasonably addressed in
the beginning. The literally explosive, Travis Bickle style violent
confrontation in the end is executed with a admirable vigor, but it didn’t
provide a greater impact as the film’s early, subtle portions. And, the more
conventional epilogue feels a bit out-of-place, although Audiard might have
designed it to remain as uplifting.

“Dheepan” (115 minutes) is far from being Jacques Audiard’s
best work, but the film-makers’ splendid visual motifs and rich central
performances makes it a compelling drama. The film’s understated emotional
intensity may leave many viewers in the cold.